I Freaking Hate Valentines Day
by Totally Team Derek Hale
Summary: Sarah Brown has been bullied since the sixth grade by one Stiles Stilinski especially on Valentine's Day making her hate the holiday more than anything. But things are soon shaken up when someone dares to put a stop to Stiles bullying behavior. Slowly re-posting chapters.
1. Valentines Day Sixth Grade

Sixth Grade

He wouldn't stop looking at me. I watched him nervously from my peripheral vision in the middle row of my social studies classroom.

I hate my new school, and mentally cursed my father (for I surely wasn't allowed to swear out loud) for making me live with him. Divorce sucks balls, especially when your parents decide to finalize it in the middle of the school year. Unlike normal students, my first day was on a January morning, rather an autumn-filled September one.

An abnormally tall boy with short brown hair gazed at me the minute I walked into room twenty-eight. My teacher, a rather rotund woman by the name of Mrs. Gillespie looked at me kindly as I gave her a pink slip I was supposed to give to every one of my new teachers, not that they weren't already informed that a new student was to be occupying one of their empty desks, but it was protocol all the same.

"Thank you, Sarah," she said warmly.

But before she guided the nervous pupil to my designated seat for the rest of the school year, she cleared her throat, and my heart rate quickened. She was going to announce me to the rest of the class. This was done only once before- in Mr. Phillips' Math class, where most of the kids stared at me with blank faces, which caused me to blush considerably.

"Class, We have a new student joining us for the rest of the school year. And I hope, until Eighth grade," she put her hand on me shoulder, as if to tell me that everything would be okay and none of her students would bite me, "This is Sarah Brown, and I hope you all welcome her with open arms."

A group of boys snickered in the back. I distinctly heard one of them whisper loudly, "Open arms," in a mocking tone to his buddy before stretching out his arms and moving them in an "up and down" motion, as if making out with an invisible person. His friends laughed at his juvenile joke, which only mortified me.

Mrs. Gillespie failed to notice this, for she simply guided me to an empty seat in the middle of the second row, "This is your seat for the rest of the year. I hope you've read some parts of the text from the syllabus I sent you?"

I nodded. Mrs. Gillespie smiled at me one last time before beginning her usual roll call.

I opened my notebook, taking out the syllabus the teacher sent me a few days ago. Luckily, my middle school back home was on the same page as Beacon Hills Middle School, which made me slightly relieved that I wasn't going to look like a retard to the rest of my class.

I noticed the brown-haired boy still glancing at me every so often, and it made me extremely uncomfortable.

But once I started paying attention to the teacher and taking notes on the history of the Islamic religion, my uneasiness about the boy's attention disappeared as I became interested in the subject being taught. Until I felt something light hit me on the side of my face.

I turned to my right to see who was the culprit, and saw the brown- haired boy looking at me, smiling. Idiot. I was about to ignore him and return to my note-taking when I heard a "Psst" coming from my right.

I looked towards the boy again and he smiled at me, pointing to the wad of paper on the floor near my foot.

I leaned over to pick it up and opened the crinkled thing and nearly died at the scribble that was barely legible inside.

_U R ugly._

I felt rather than knew a deep crimson was spreading across my cheeks. I felt my hands begin to shake and my eyes just on the brink of watering.

Muffled laughter came from where my tormentor sat, and I could see from my peripheral vision several of his buddies nearby high five him.

I then felt a light tap on my shoulder from behind. I didn't want to turn around, for I was afraid if I did, worse things would befall me than the mortification of being called ugly.

But I turned around anyway, and was met with a warm smile from a cute, long black-haired girl.

"Don't listen to Stiles," she whispered, glancing in the boy's direction and scowling at him as he still glanced in our direction, "he's an idiot." The nightmare of a boy stuck his tongue out at the tiny girl and proceeded to laugh with his buddies.

"Mr. Stilinski, Mr. McCall, and Mr. Whitmore, can you three please refrain from laughing during class. Or do I have to separate you three like I did last week?" Mrs. Gillespie lowered her chin, eyeing the three wide eyed boys who feigned complete innocence.

"We're sorry, Mrs. Gillespie," the brown-haired demon known as Stiles replied, his voice dripping with sweetness.

"Consider this a warning." And with that, Mrs. Gillespie continued a lesson she has taught so many times that it could be done in her sleep.

"He makes fun of all of the girls," the petite girl whispered to me.

"Has he made fun of you?" I hoped he had, just so I wouldn't be the only one.

"Yeah, in fourth grade. They found out that I was older than them because I was always moving around a lot so I had to repeat a year. He said I was a retard. But I don't care," she ran a hand through the tips of her glossy hair; "He'll get bored and make fun of someone else. You'll see. Oh, I'm Allison, by the way. "

"Sarah Brown."

"I know."

I admired the girl's confidence. I only wished I could say the same for myself. As I stole a glance at my new tormentor, Stiles Stilinski, I wondered if I really were ugly. The idea that someone out there thought I was hideous was hurtful, and if it wasn't for Allison, I seriously would've cried that day.

As Stiles returned my gaze and made a gagging gesture at me, I knew that I would hate him for the rest of my middle school life.

Oh My God. Okay um I should probably explain myself huh? Okay well. Everyone knows Stiles to be this happy-go-lucky kid and is always the person being picked on and never the bully. So I kind of picked at his personality and just brought that 'douche bag persona'. But don't worry you'll see glimpses of the Stiles that we all know and love throughout the story.

TTDH


	2. Valentines Day Seventh Grade

Valentine's Day- Seventh Grade

Allison was wrong. Stiles Stilinski didn't stop picking on me. A year had passed and he still picked on me. It seemed to me that out of all the girls in our grade, he made it a point to pay special attention to me. Special attention meaning that the wad of paper he first threw at me on her first day of school escalated to throwing pencils spitballs and Kool- aid at her during lunch.

"You told me it would stop," I complained to Allison as we headed to the cafeteria, with me being fully prepared to receive my daily dose of that icky reddish liquid all over her dark purple blouse. I've learned that the best way to get through the day with a liquid-stained shirt was to wear dark tones, for it will be less noticeable. So I was fully prepared that day by wearing a dark hue.

"I know. I'm sorry. He usually does. Maybe until we get a new girl next year." Allison glanced at me, finally noticing her color choice, "You could've worn red today."

"Didn't feel like it," I responded as I took notice of everyone else dressed in the pink, white, and red colors that symbolized that most hated holiday in my mind.

It wasn't that I hated the notion, per se, but that it was such a popularity contest. Only the really popular and pretty girls got a valentine from a boy. On the outside, I made a point to Allison that Valentine's Day for me meant showing my friends how much I cared about them. But on the inside, I wanted more than anything to be noticed by a boy, especially Jackson Whitmore. I've liked him for a few weeks now- his flashing smile, blue eyes, and funny personality. The only person I told was Allison, who, instead of laughing at me over it, thought it was sweet and didn't blame me for finding him attractive. But the only problem was that he was close friends with Stiles. Jackson never made fun of me on his own, but when he was with his buddy, he had a tendency to laugh hysterically at the various name-calling Stiles directed at me.

"I have a valentine card for you," Allison said cheerily, reaching into her pink Jansport backpack to pull out a small Peanuts- themed card with sweethearts scotch-taped on the side, "I hope you like it."

"You didn't have to." I smiled as I read the note, "A Valentine's Day just for you!" with Snoopy dancing around a bunch of flowers. Very cute. Very Allison.

"Hey, Smells!"

I grimaced, prepared to meet my death. I quickly stuffed Allison's card into my green backpack. For at this point I couldn't bear for the only valentine I'd probably be getting this year to be dripping in Kool- aid by the end of the day.

Stiles noticed my action. "Aw, Little Ugly Duckling got a valentine!" He glanced at Allison, "Well, of course it's from her retarded friend. Are you two gonna make out or something?"

Allison scowled at the brown-haired demon, "No, but I wouldn't be surprised if you and Jackson did."

I looked at my friend in shock. Boy was she going to get it. Now we'd both be dripping in Kool-Aid.

Stiles looked at me, and then returned his gaze to my bold companion. "I'm not gay."

"You are too," Allison retorted, taking two steps toward Stiles. Her eyes flashing, as if to challenge him, "You two are the only boys who haven't asked a girl to be their valentine."

Both I and Stiles noted our fellow seventh graders, surprised to find that almost every girl had a valentine card with some kind of rose attached to it. We both knew that no same-sex friend would even think of sending their pals a rose.

"Nuh, uh. Not true. Scott doesn't have a valentine," Stiles pointed out, looking triumphant.

Allison lips spread into a knowing smile. "Yeah, he does. Me."

"No way." Stiles was shocked, perplexed, and dumbfounded. Scott McCall, one of his good friends, who occasionally joined in tormenting the two girls, asked out the retarded chick? It was too much to handle.

Even I looked at Allison in shock. How come she never told me? The whole day she made me believe that, like me, she didn't have a valentine. Now I felt more alone than ever before. It seemed, as I looked at all my fellow female classmates around me, each whispering to each other over the various candy assortments they received from their admirers, or the teddy bears a few of them held closely to their chests, that I was the only one in the entire school who didn't have a valentine.

"It's true," Allison reiterated, taking out a rather large cut- out red cardboard rose from her backpack, waving it in front of Stiles' face, taunting him, "He told me he likes me and that he never really wanted to make fun of me. So there! In your face!" To drive her triumph further home, she stuck out her tongue at him.

"He's so dead, "Stiles muttered under his breath, clenching his fists, "Traitor."

"So you and Jackson are the only ones," Allison pointed out again, obviously enjoying getting her revenge, "Well, you because no girl likes you."

Stiles glanced at me. "I don't need a girl to like me. And no one likes Jackson either."

"Someone does," Allison said in a sing-song voice.

My cheeks began to flush, heat spreading all over my body. I was afraid, deadly afraid. Allison was going to tell my secret, and to Stiles Stilinski of all people. I automatically grabbed my friend's arm, and at the feel of my touch, Alice shook her head, as if clearing her thoughts.

"Who?" Stiles asked.

"No one. Forget it."

"No, you said someone likes him and no I gotta know who." Stiles moved closer to the us, as if preparing to stop us if we try to get past him.

"Forget it. I don't wanna say." Allison tried pushing Stiles aside, but considering the boy was enormous in size for a twelve-year old, it was a useless attempt.

"No, it's my business to know."

"How's it your business?"

"Cause he's my best friend," he then grinned, "And I gotta know if she's hot enough to go out with him."

"I won't tell."

"Tell me or I'll take your lunch." Stiles eyed her Strawberry Shortcake lunchbox, his mouth watering at the surprise contents inside. The last time he stole Allison Argent's lunch was in the fourth grade, and he soon found out that her Mom made the most delicious homemade chocolate chip cookies ever. And he now couldn't wait to feel the moistness and richness of them on his tongue.

Allison seemed to falter, for she remembered starving to death that afternoon, watching Stiles devour her cookies, and him doing it right in front of her. She kept switching her focus from the quivering Sarah to her delicious lunch made with love from Mom. Hunger. Friendship. Hunger. Friendship.

"Sarah likes him," Allison blurted out. She immediately looked at me, mouthing the words "I'm sorry", her eyes boring into mine, silently pleading me to understand.

Stiles gazed at me. His look could only be described as one of shock. But there was something along the lines of hurt appearing briefly in his dark eyes, only to be replaced by loud laughter.

"Eww. Smells likes Jackson? Jackson would never ask you out. You dork."

A sudden rage began to boil within my chest. I could deal with this jerk calling me 'Smells' but I wouldn't stand for myself to be put down by him in saying Jackson was too cute for me. I'm not ugly. At least, that's what Allison was trying to tell me for the past year.

"Shut up," I gritted through my teeth.

"What?" Stiles glanced at me speculatively, shock evident on his face.

"I said shut up!" I took a step closer to me tormentor, and my heart accelerated just by the fact that I was a foot shorter than he was. His height was enough to intimidate even ninth graders, but I wouldn't back down, "No one likes you. You're the one who's too ugly to have a valentine and you're just jealous because I can probably have one and you can't."

Instead of being outraged at this extravagant claim, Stiles merely smiled. "I'm jealous of you? Don't be stupid." He lowered his shoulders in order to be at eye level with her, his light brown eyes boring into my chocolate brown ones. I felt as if he was looking into my soul. I had never been more vulnerable in my entire life. It was like the infamous dream where one is running around the halls of their school naked. For that's what it felt like, like Stile Stilinski was secretly laughing at me because of a joke only he knew about.

"I'm gonna tell him you like him. And he'll just laugh at you. You'll see," Stiles breathed, an evil grin spreading across his face, "He'll laugh at you and then no one will be your valentine."

My mouth hung open, more for the fact that Stiles could be so cruel more than anything else. What was it about my that made him hate me so much? If I liked his friend, so what? Was he that bitter about not having a stupid valentine that he had to set his mind on ruining mine?

"I hate you," I whispered, meaning every word I said.

He chuckled, licking his lips. "You don't believe me…but just watch."

He then sauntered over to the far side of the cafeteria, where Scott and Jackson were flinging meatballs at unsuspecting fourth graders. Stiles immediately poked Jackson in the ribs, getting his attention. He only scowled for a few seconds, for his best friend immediately whispered something in his ear, breaking into fits of laughter as he pointed at my reddened, hurt face. Jackson followed Stiles' gaze in wonder, wrinkled his nose in disgust at me, and made kissing noises at me, causing the three of them to laugh uncontrollably. But once Scott noticed us watching us with pure hatred in our eyes, he immediately looked sheepish and stopped laughing along with his buddies, suddenly hovering over his half-eaten plate of spaghetti and meatballs.

"Sarah, I'm so sorry. Please don't be mad at me," Allison whispered, not able to meet my still hurt gaze.

"Why did you do that?' I questioned, my eyes watering with the sad realization that the boy I harbored such intense feelings for thought I was as much of a loser as my worst enemy did.

"It- It was stupid," Allison stammered, now completely ashamed at choosing her lunch over my feelings, "I didn't mean to. He pissed me off so much. You know how it is. I just kept thinking about that time he stole my lunch and I was so hungry- I promise I'll never do that again. Please still be my bosom buddy, please?" Allison was desperate now. She knew she couldn't possibly have a good valentine's day if I was mad at her, not mattering that Scott McCall asked her to be his valentine.

"No," I hissed, anger immediately replacing my hurt, "You told that idiot that I liked Jackson. You embarrassed me just so you could eat your stupid cookies. I'm never gonna be your friend again. I hate you, I hate Stiles Stilinski, and I hate Valentine's Day!"

And with that, I headed to the bathroom, where I would eat my lunch in one of the stalls, and wallow in my own self- pity.


	3. Valentines Day Eight Grade

Valentine's Day- Eighth Grade

"Scott's gonna take me to see a romantic movie this year!" Allison chirped as she and I got out of our Honors English class, "Can your Dad drive us to the mall? Just don't tell my Mom 'cause she gets mad when I go shopping. Says I spend too much money."

Allison and I eventually made up after that fateful Valentine's Day a year ago, with us missing each other too much to be apart. Stiles Stilinski harassed me so much that I felt I needed my stronger, braver friend by my side to fight him off. And it got only better when Scott and Allison began to seriously date, which in middle school terms meant holding hands in between classroom, and maybe Scott carrying Allison's books occasionally.

Stiles stuck by Scott though, even when he completely stepped aside when Stiles and Jackson decided to still throw mounds of Kool- Aid on me as well as tie me shoelaces together while I sat in American History, causing me to immediately fall on my face upon getting up.

Scott sure was a different person than the year before, and it all had to do with his girlfriend Allison. For she basically gave him an ultimatum- he could continue harassing me like the rest of his moronic friends and not be able to make out with Allison (something he discovered that he particularly enjoyed) or be able to make out with Allison (something he particularly enjoyed). He chose the latter, much to his friends' dismay, for they couldn't conceive why a guy would pick an "icky girl" over them.

"Sure," I replied, balancing my books on one arm, "You gonna get a new dress?"

Allison thought for a moment, as if the question required deep consternation, "No, I might use the black and pink polka-dotted one I bought last week. I just really need to get new lip gloss. Scott loves it when I wear strawberry lip gloss."

"Cool," I said absent-mindedly. I wondered what I was going to do on this horrible day. Last year I just stayed at home with my dad, watching old movies on American Movie Classics. Of course, with my only being twelve at the time, Anthony Brown failed to worry about his daughter having a valentine. But I myself hoped I would be spending it with friends, and it sure looked like I wasn't going to this year.

"I got you a valentine present." Allison handed me an assortment of chocolates from Godiva she took out from the second compartment of her sleek, new backpack. "It's the best chocolate ever."

"Thanks. Wait a minute." I put down my books by the nearest bench in the courtyard belonging to the eighth graders and rummaged through my new red Jansport, "Here, I got something for you too, even though you already have a valentine."

"Don't be dumb," the petite girl joked, her eyes shining at the brightly wrapped little red box, "I can have two valentines, you and Scott."

Unlike most girls her age, Allison carefully picked removed the scotch tape around the corners, finally unwrapping the pretty wrapping paper without ripping it apart. She gasped as she twirled around a tiny, see through, purse with little handles that contained two sets of lipstick.

"I hoped you'd like it," I began, all the while shifting my weight from one foot to the other, "Now you don't have to go to the mall."

Allison broke into a huge grin, and immediately wrapped her tiny arms around me, hugging me tightly.

"Thanks, I love it."

The bell rang.

"See you at lunch?" Allison asked, already walking towards her class.

"Of course."

As I entered my fifth period English class and sat down in my assigned seat in the fourth row, I feel as if nothing could bring me down. I've gotten a really good present for Valentine's Day and on top of that, Allison loved her present. Nothing, not even Stiles Stilinski, who sat right in back of me, could ruin my day. I wouldn't let him, not like last year.

"Smells," he whispered as I opened my notebook, ready to take notes.

Ignoring him was my best option, so I said nothing. I attempted to pay attention while Mr. Wilkins called roll and proceeded to drone on about "The Old Man and The Sea", completely oblivious to the harassment I was experiencing with my tormentor.

"Smells, Smells, Smells, Smells" he whispered, as if in a chant.

I was finally at my breaking point, which was exactly what Stiles wanted.

"What?" I hissed, only half-turning to look at him, for I did not want Mr. Wilkins to get suspicious.

"You have a valentine this year."

"Who?"

"Do I hear whispering while class is going on?" Mr. Wilkins questioned monotonously, as if the new observation didn't faze him in the least, "Do I have to separate you two?"

Oh, God. Please…

"No, it's fine," Stiles replied, his voice low and respectful, "I was just asking Sarah for a piece of paper."

"Next time, be better prepared for class," Mr. Wilkins warned, finally turning his back to the class and proceeded to write some drabble about tone and symbolism on the board.

"You have a valentine this year. I'm surprised, since you're super weird. You're not human."

I felt as if my heart would break. I just wish I could smash Stiles' head onto the desk, repeatedly, mercilessly.

"I don't care. I don't need one. And I'm not weird. You're just an asshole."

Stiles shook his head. "Tsk, Tsk, Tsk. There's no need for that kind of language. And you are weird. But you have an admirer."

"Who?" I ventured to ask.

"The love of your life…Jackson."

I immediately whipped my head around, not caring that Mr. Wilkins might see. Stiles grinned from ear to ear.

"Oooh, that got your attention. You only pay attention to me once I mention perfect Jackson," he said with just a twinge of bitterness, only to be replaced a second later with a devilish smile, "He wants to meet you by the lockers after school."

"Why couldn't he tell me himself?"

"He thought you wouldn't go because you wouldn't think that he really meant it."

"I don't."

"He's too shy to say."

I eyed him quizzically, "Jackson's not shy."

"He is with girls he likes," Stiles gazes at me seriously, "He's too afraid to tell you. He thinks you'll say no."

As I continued to hold his gaze, I sensed that he was telling the truth. I really wanted Jackson to like me, and I would believe what anyone said about him feeling the same way that I felt about him, even if it was Stiles Stilinski himself.

"Tell him yes," I whispered, butterflies beginning to flutter in my stomach.

Stiles broke out into a full-fledged grin. "He's gonna be happy. I'll tell him right after class."

I narrowed my eyebrows as I turned around in my seat to face the blackboard. Stiles was acting too nice; it was unsettling…and just weird.

I whipped around to face him the moment Mr. Wilkins' back was turned. "You for real?"

"Of course," he smiled, leaning forward until he was only inches from my face. I could smell the tic-tacs on his breath, "You're ugly but for some reason he likes you. Thinks you're pretty."

Stiles then made a point to wrinkle his nose in disgust. Without thinking about it, I smiled, really smiled. I felt elated. The butterflies seemed to multiply within my stomach. Jackson thought I was pretty. A boy never thought that about me, and I couldn't help but think that this was the best Valentine's Day ever.

Stiles noted the glow on my face, the sudden color to my cheeks, and the disgusted look on his face faltered a little, "You really like him?" his voice was hesitant.

"Yeah," I breathed, forgetting who I was talking to.

"He'll meet you by the lockers after school," Stiles said tersely, and his attention suddenly focused on Mr. Wilkins, signaling that our little exchange was over.

I returned my gaze to the board as well, feeling as light as a feather and as happy as I could be.

I waited by the eighth grade lockers, not telling Allison anything. Allison barely noticed that her friend was still hanging around school once the last bell rang, only waving to her good-bye as she got into the school bus with Scott, both of them holding hands. Allison told me at lunch that her parents already thought she was going to hang out with me after school. But now that Allison had her new lip-gloss, she had no need to go to the mall with her bosom buddy, and opted to spend the rest of Valentine's Day with her boyfriend and ride the school bus with him to his house. How Allison was going to manage to get home was a mystery to me, since her parents had no idea she was going to be in a boy's house…without her permission. I rolled my eyes at my courageous friend, for I would never do something so careless.

I turned the dial on my locker door and finally got it open, attempting to do anything to distract myself from looking too desperate. I fiddled around with the books I had inside, trying to look as if I was deciding what books to take.

"Hi, Sarah," a deep voice that had obviously just hit puberty spoke up from behind me, causing me to drop all my books to the ground.

"Here, let me," and he bent over and lightly retrieved the three heavy textbooks that were half-opened, the brand new pages now folded with the impact of the fall.

"Thanks." I held out my hands, lowering them instinctively once the weight of the objects were felt in my arms.

"Uh, wanna be my valentine?" Jackson asked suddenly.

"Sure," I tried to act nonchalant, but didn't know if it was working, for I could sense more than anyone else how much my voice quavered.

Jackson grinned, looking behind him. "Can I- Can I hug you?"

My eyes felt as if they were going to bug out of their sockets. Hug me? It was a dream come true.

"Yeah, sure."

Act cool. Act cool. Don't spaz out.

Jackson immediately wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug. I felt something lift up on my back, my crotch tightening a bit, but the feeling was soon gone. He felt so warm, so strong; more so than any eighth grader should. And I couldn't help but close my eyes, wanting to make the moment last forever.

But my admirer quickly broke away from me.

"I gotta go to the bathroom real quick. Wait for me?" And before I could answer, he dashed off in the opposite direction, leaving me to look after him, perplexed.

It wasn't too long before a few seventh graders passed by the eighth grade lockers, laughing hysterically before I turned to them, and they immediately changed the expression on their faces, only to continue their laughter once out of my sight.

People kept looking at me and laughing. A flush of heat crept up my cheeks, making me hunch up my shoulders as if willing myself to hide from everyone's ridiculing gaze. I checked my clothes. No stains, nothing mismatching, everything looked fine. What the hell was going on?

"Haha. It's true," I heard someone exclaim once he came to stand in front of me.

"What's true," I asked nervously, afraid to hear the answer.

"You got camel toe!" He pointed to my crotch.

I bent my head down, seeing clearly that my shorts were tight in the front, revealing two little lumps, barely noticeable to a casual observer but still there.

"Oh, My God," I exclaimed. I then remembered the feeling of something being lifted from my back when Jackson hugged me and once I brought me arms around my back, I felt a pin that brought my pants a little higher than they should be, and upon raising my arms a hand a bit above the pin I noticed that it was attached to the middle of her loose-fitting shirt. I also felt a piece of paper once going up a little higher. I quickly ripped the paper, only to find in huge, bold, black print something that horrified me immensely, "I have Camel Toe" was written on the front, with an exclamation and everything.

I was going to cry, I knew it. I hate Jackson Whitmore. Hate him so much.

"Smells," another voice said behind me.

I turned around to see the brown-haired demon himself. He was the cause of this. He always was.

"Wow. Didn't know you had a huge, camel toe.' He then laughed, "No wonder Jackson went running."

"You did this," I accused, pointing at him as my eyes watered, "This was your idea. I know it."

"Don't know what you're talking about," Stiles smiled evilly, "Happy Valentine- Camel toe day!"

He ran off, howling with laughter.

Last year's fiasco was nothing compared to this. I loathed Valentine's Day with all my being, but I loathed Stiles Stilinski even more.


	4. Valentines Day Ninth Grade

Valentine's Day- Ninth Grade

"Let's go watch a movie tonight," I said to Allison and her new friend, Jessica Taylor. Jessica started Beacon Hills High school with us. But like me three years before, she was new in town and her bubbly though sometimes annoying personality drew the us to her.

"Okay," Allison replied, taking down a heart-shaped valentine taped to her locker in the freshman hallway. She was down in the dumps, for her and Scott were in the middle of another one of their infamous "break-ups" and at this moment, she hated anything having to do with the ridiculous national holiday for lovers.

"Why don't we go see that new movie out with Patrick Dempsey? I heard it's really cute," Jessica pitched in as she opened her locker and stuffed various books carelessly inside.

"No way." I was adamant in my resolve to not see a romantic movie. My previous experiences with Valentine's Day were nothing short of a nightmare. Even the mention of the word "camel toe" was enough to make me scream in the middle of the night.

"I agree," Allison retorted, ripping the heart up into shreds and throwing it behind her, not even bothering to find a trash can to throw it in.

"Hey, don't litter," Jessica complained, making a futile attempt to pick up the various pieces of red paper lying on the floor.

"Forget that." Allison brought Jessica to her feet, wiping her hands clean, "You just painted your nails in Homeroom this morning. You don't need to mess it up."

"Let's see that new movie with the ghosts in the hotel room," I suggested, already heading down the long winding stairs to the exit of the school. My father was supposed to pick us up. I made a point to remind him that morning for him to be there at two forty-five on the dot, which was plenty of time for me to escape whatever prank Stiles was going to pull on me this year.

"Oooh, let's. I love scary movies," Allison breathed, taking a few steps before she fully caught up with her dear friend.

As we waited in the parking lot for their ride, I noticed Jackson walking down the handicap ramp with his girlfriend of two months, Lydia Martin. He had his arms wrapped around her and the two were smooching, with Lydia giggling every few seconds like an idiot.

"You still like him, don't you?" Allison whispered so Jessica wouldn't hear, for they still hadn't told their new friend about my major crush on the captain of the lacrosse team.

"No," I retorted, my eyes still focused on the two lovebirds. I was still attracted to him, but what he did last year alongside Stiles was intolerable. My gaze still lingered on the two before a black Mercedes pulled up, and the couple jumped in the backseat, heading off into the open road, away from the school.

"You still do, "Allison broke into my thoughts, grabbing a tiny mirror from my backpack and slowly applying lipstick to her plush lips, "He's an asshole. They all are."

By all of them I mean Stiles Stilinski and his new cronies- which included new classmates Andy and Danny. They were friends with Stiles, and he had known them for years. They were my new tormentors alongside their leader, for Scott stopped completely because of his relationship with Allison and Jackson completely lost interest.

"Hello, ladies," a dreaded voice called to us.

I groaned. Speak of the devil and he shall come.

"Go away," I exclaimed.

"Oh, come on Smells," Stiles chided me, coming up close until my face was inches from his chest, for he went through a giant growth spurt during the summer, which only intimidated his fellow classmates, including me. But I wasn't going to back down, not after the humiliation of last year, "I was only greeting you."

"Well don't," I retorted, "You're not ruining my Valentine's day this year, Stilinski. I'm not afraid of you, or your stupid friends."

"Hey," Danny interrupted, coming up to stand alongside his friend. He was equally as tall as his companion but not as bulky. He was as thin as a rail, while Stiles clearly had defined muscle tone, "No way am I stupid. I'm in Honors Biology." He grinned, proud of his achievement.

"Nerd," Stiles breathed.

"That doesn't count," Allison interrupted, "Mrs. McCoy is the easiest grader ever."

"Whatever," Danny replied, unfazed by that truth.

"How did I ever ruin your Valentine's day?" Stiles asked a look of mock confusion evident on his face.

"Are you kidding me? You know what you did last year!"

"What did I do?

"You- you…" I was too embarrassed to say more, and was pretty sure that Stiles was feigning stupidity in order to get me to actually say what happened.

"He gave you a camel toe," Andy cut in, laughing, "You should've seen poor little Stiles that night. Camel toe girl gave him a major hard-on. I remember your Dad saying he had to spend the whole night cleaning the bathroom from all the cum that was all over the walls."

Stiles' face reddened, but besides that he was completely unperturbed. "Oh, please. Biggest lie ever. Who the hell would get a hard-on from Smells the camel toe girl?" He wrinkled his nose in disgust at me, as usual.

"Shut up!" I yelled, not sure what "cum" or a "hard-on" was and sure as hell wasn't going to ask anyone, "I'm sick of you all making fun of me. Pick on someone else. Please!"

Stiles laughed. "But Smells, it's so much fun."

And with that, he lifted my up into his arms, my feet kicking near his face to be let go. I only saw the floor as Stiles walked. I protested but to no avail. As my head continued to lull to the side, I felt the blood rush to my head. But Stiles kept walking, until I felt him make a complete stop. I felt myself fall backwards, my butt landing on something mushy, sticky, and smelly. Garbage can.

I tried to lift myself off but I was stuck, for the trash can was too small and tight. I immediately saw Allison and Jessica running to my side, while a bunch of upperclassmen watched, not believing that stupid little freshmen could be so amusing.

"Sorry Smells, but my Dad always taught me to throw things that are rotting and stinking in the garbage.'

And with that, he and his three goons left, leaving me to feel more like a loser than ever before, and wishing Stiles Stilinski could fall into the fiery pits of hell.


	5. Valentines Day Twelfth Grade

Valentine's Day- Twelfth Grade

"I'm not gonna go to the dance," I declared to Jessica and Lydia as we headed towards the cafeteria. Three years later and I still hated that cupid- infested holiday more than anything. And it didn't help any that Principal Huller decided during my last year in school because it would be just my luck for him to wait until I graduated, to have their first annual Valentine's Day dance.

"You should go, Sarah. All the seniors are," Lydia encouraged.

I gazed at my friend, still not fully believing that until recently, I had only thought of Lydia Martin as a beautiful, yet cold-hearted bitch who stole Jackson away from me. Well, I still was but ever since we were paired up together for a chemistry project in junior year they had been inseparable. From the various accountings Lydia would give me about her relationship with Jackson it was fairly obvious that he was totally wrong for me. He constantly forgot two-week as well as five month anniversaries and he completely forgot Lydia's birthday, no matter that she told him a million times. I definitely saw now that my crush on Jackson was just that – a crush. And I was glad it was finally done with.

"You know I hate Valentine's Day, and I'm afraid of what that shitface is gonna do this year."

"I don't think he's gonna do anything," Jessica pointed out, plopping herself down in our usual table at the corner by the window, "Not after that big meeting at the principal's office."

I sighed, distinctly remembering that pointless talk between Principal Huller, my Dad, Stiles' Dad, herself, and the demon that took place over three months ago. Surprisingly, Stiles' Dad seemed like a really nice guy. He was completely oblivious to the way his son was treating a fellow classmate and made it perfectly clear that Stiles was going to be grounded.

Turned out Mr. Stilinski was true to his word, because for the next three weeks I was free of Stiles' bullying of me and quite enjoyed going to school and spending time with my friends. The only thing I got out of Stiles during those weeks was his constantly staring at me, which bugged me more than anything. I also noticed that this year his friends weren't joining him in his constant attacks upon me. Rather, it seemed that Andy, Jackson, and Danny all moved on. And each of them had girlfriends/boyfriends (Danny's gay), and were rather annoyed with the fact that Stiles still tripped me whenever he could, spilled any kind of drink on me when he got the chance, and occasionally dropped my books when I would pass him by. When he did these antics, all he received from his buddies were disapproving looks, as if they were witnessing acts done by a child.

"I don't know," I sighed, swirling my mashed potatoes with my fork, "He still bugs me. But I'm so used to it that it doesn't fucking matter anymore."

"Hey, Sarah?' said a hesitant, yet strong voice.

We turned to look at Derek Hale – the new, hot, student who transferred in the beginning of senior year. I, and every other girl in the school, was immediately infatuated with him. But the one thing that turned me off was him being good friends with Stiles Stilinski. I couldn't fathom how or why the two got along so perfectly, which made Stiles' making fun of her in front of Derek all the more embarrassing. But the good thing was that Derek never partook in the torturing and name-calling. I did catch him laughing sometimes, which surprised my now as to why he would even address me.

"Yeah?" I could barely choke out the words.

He looked at the other two girls. "Could I talk to you for a minute...Alone?"

We all each other, eyebrows raised, each asking the same thing. What the hell?

"Sure."

The we headed off into a corner of the cafeteria where most likely we wouldn't be heard. We both looked at our feet, shifting the weight from side to side.

"Do you wanna go to the dance with me?"

My eyes widened. "What?"

"I – like you. Don't know if you can tell. But I do. Don't care what Stiles says. Will you go to the dance with me?"

Old butterflies that I thought were forever dormant suddenly fluttered wildly within I stomach. The heat crept up my cheeks, my heart pounding furiously within my chest.

"Is this a joke?" I whispered. The last thing I wanted was for this all to be some practical joke concocted by the demon child himself. I wasn't twelve years old anymore; I was seventeen, and wiser.

Derek quickly looked away. "Sorry, my bad. I get it."

He immediately left my side, halfway across the lunchroom when I stopped him, my tiny hand on his arm. I didn't know what possessed me to go to him. I had no conscious thought of doing so, I just did.

"Wait."

"What?" His voice was terse, harsh.

"Do you really mean it? Or did Stiles put you up to this?"

Derek smiled shyly. "No, he didn't. He doesn't even know. Probably kill me if we went together. 'Cause he hates you so much. But thought I'd try anyway. Don't care what he thinks. He can stick it for all I care. I always thought his making fun of you was pretty immature."

I felt as if I was flying, soaring in the air. It was a dream come true. As I gazed into his green eyes, all I saw was warmth, delight, and genuine interest. His eyes spoke volumes to me and they were devoid of the devilish, teasing delight so evident in Stiles Stilinski's familiar light brown pools. I loved it.

"Yes," I choked out.

"Yeah?" he was unsure, hesitant.

"Yes."

"Okay," he quickly looked around, "I gotta go. Don't feel like getting into something with Stiles. Give me your number after school?"

"Sure."

As he left, I remembered how a similar event turned out a couple of years ago, and could only wonder.

It was just as I shut my locker at the end of the day when the face of Stiles Stilinski stared at me, wiggling his eyebrows in delight.

"How's it goin' Smells?"

"We're seniors already. Can you please stop with the childish name-calling? At least come up with another name," I honestly had no time for Stiles. I racked my brain for ways to get him to leave me alone so Derek could approach me, considering that he really wanted to go to the dance with me. My friends knew about it and could only gush about it the entire lunch period. It was the same with Allison during Government; she was ecstatic as well. But she was also a bit preoccupied with her and Scott going to college together.

"Okay then" Stiles began, breaking into my thoughts, "How about if I call you my date?"

I froze. "Date for what?"

He laughed. "The Valentine's day dance, of course," he ran a hand over his head, suddenly jumping up and down on the balls of his feet, "I know you hate the big V day. I know I've treated you like shit in the past. But…I'd really like it if you'd go with me. Kind of to make amends? Since it's our last year?"

"No."

Stiles was taken aback. "Wow. Just like that?"

"Yeah, just like that. A no – brainer, actually. Why the hell would I want to go to a dance with someone who's tormented me for the past six years and made me look like such a loser?" I slammed I locker shut, walking closer to Stiles, trying my hardest to look at him at eye level but knowing it was futile. He was tall as shit.

"I know-"

"No, you don't know," I interrupted, "This is probably your last, big Valentine's Day joke on me, right? You're gonna make me wait for you to pick me up so we can go to this stupid dance and you'll stand me up? Wow, how fucking original!" I was furious, mostly at the truth that such cruelty could happen where Stiles was concerned, and I wouldn't take it any longer.

Stiles' mouth opened in shock, "No, I wouldn't do that. If I really hated you and was disgusted with you I wouldn't even try to ask you to go with me."

"Then why are you?"

He bowed his head, shuffling his feet. Just like Derek Hale did earlier that day.

"Just because."

I groaned. "Oh, God!" I pushed my arms through my backpack, instinctively getting ready to leave. "I'm already going with someone anyway."

Stiles gazed at me in complete shock and bewilderment.

"Who?"

It was now my turn to smile devilishly at him. "Your friend Derek."

"Hell fuck no."

I still smiled. "He asked me during lunch. He said he liked me and that he doesn't care that you'll eventually find out."

He could only stare at me with his mouth open, not moving an inch.

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not. Why? Is it 'cause it's so impossible for a guy to like me?"

But before Stiles could respond, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I didn't even have to turn. By Stiles stone cold expression I could only assume it was Derek.

"Stiles, Sorry I didn't tell you before. I didn't think it really was that big a deal."

"It's not," Stiles said tersely.

"Then why you look so pissed?"

Stiles clenched his fists together so tightly that his slightly tanned knuckles were slowly turning white.

"I'm not. Take her if you want then. You're both a bunch of losers anyway."

And with that, he stormed off. But I didn't care. I was used to Stiles' insults, with this one being the lamest of them all. But one look at Derek's hurt yet puzzled face implied that unlike me, he was easily affected by his now former friend's harsh words.

"I don't get it. Why does he care so much?"

I shrugged. "Does it really matter?" I was tired of talking about my arch nemesis. All I wanted to do was get to know my new crush better.

"Yeah. He's my closest friend."

"I don't know."

It was the truth; I didn't know. I didn't know how to make Derek feel better about the whole thing because I could care less about his friendship with someone as mean and idiotic as Stiles Stilinski.

"You still want my number?" I asked, hoping I could distract him somehow.

He smiled. "Of course."

I reached into my backpack, taking out a pen and paper.

* * *

Three Weeks Later

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Derek asked Stiles as he slammed him against the side of the boy's jeep, his melodic yet demanding tone booming through the student parking lot of Beacon Hills High, causing a number of Seniors as well as underclassmen to watch in wonder, all wanting to find out what the hell was going on.

"Nothing," his former buddy answered viciously, trying to get Derek to release his grip on him. The brown haired demon turned to look at me, eyeing the yolk of the egg he threw at me as it oozed its way down to my cheeks. IF this was sixth grade, I would have been in tears, but not now. Now I was furious, more so than my boyfriend.

"You leave her the fuck alone!"

"No. Not until you stop walking around the halls holding hands. You're disgusting everyone."

"No," I pointed out as I wiped my face with a towel that some kind sophomore had the decency to hand to me. I walked up to Stiles, where Derek was still holding him against the jeep, "You're the only one who is disgusted with it. Just get over it. You hate me so just pretend I don't exist!"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Stiles turned his head away, unable to meet my gaze.

"Why?" I asked again.

"Because he wants you," Derek responded quietly, to which almost all out spectators gasped- some of them having figured this out years before, while others could hardly believe it.

I faced my boyfriend, shock and disgust clearly visible on my pale face, "What?"

"Yeah," Derek began, "Took me awhile to figure it out. But it made more sense than his really disliking you. Isn't that right, dude?"

He wouldn't answer his face red with embarrassment.

"Is this true?" I whispered. It couldn't be. Someone this cruel couldn't actually harbor feelings for anyone they so freely torment. It wasn't possible.

"Yeah," Stiles said, finally looking into my eyes. It was moments before either of us spoke; we only continued to gaze at each other. Light brown eyes meeting dark brown.

"Since when?"

Stiles sighed, finally breaking eye contact.

"Since when?" I repeated, my voice strong, sure.

"Sixth grade."

My jaw clenched in anger. "And you felt that tormenting me and making me feel like the most worthless, ugly girl in the entire school was a good reason for me to ever go out with you?"

"No, I- I didn't know how to talk to girls-"

"You never talked to me," I interrupted, completely appalled at what the root of all me problems was, "You tortured me…it wouldn't even be called teasing me. You got all your buddies to join in on the fun too. You humiliated me. It was because of you that I've had the lowest self-esteem for a middle schooler and high schooler. Do you have any idea how much I dreaded going to school just thinking what you would do to me that day? You disgust me. I feel sorry for whoever you decide to date in the future, and who you marry as well."

"I'm sorry," Stiles whispered his mouth hanging slightly open. And for the first time in a long time, I saw that look of hurt in his dark eyes, the same hurt that I saw briefly when I first told him I liked Jackson. But this time, it was ten times worse. He made no point this time to hide it.

"I don't care," I retorted, "It honestly would've been better if you really did hate me. Liking someone means caring about them in some way. And you obviously don't. 'Cause if you did, you would see that what you did to me all these years was hurtful to me. And those who love others try to elevate them, put their happiness and need above their own. You really need to learn about women, Stiles. Maybe if you treated the people you supposedly care about with a little more respect, they might care about you. But for now, don't you ever dare look at me or address me again as long as I live."

Derek finally released Stiles, with me immediately burrowing my head in Derek's chest, letting my boyfriend stroke my hair. I didn't look back at Stiles, wouldn't look at him. That was a good thing, for if I had, I would've seen the most heartbroken, utterly defeated boy in the world, for he could barely hold himself up. He slouched down at the floor, leaning his back against his jeep, only fully realizing the error of his ways, realizing he had a lot of growing up to do, and fully knowing that he had lost any chance whatsoever of being with the first girl he ever cared for.


	6. Valentines Day Six Years Later

(A/N): Make sure you read the authors note at the end of the chapter. It's on the bottom. Enjoy!

* * *

Valentine's Day- Six years later

The Starbucks café off of Third Avenue and Lexington was jammed pack for the holiday, with many strangers meeting up with dates they've only talked with online. I witnessed the awkwardness among the obviously new pairs as I sat in a corner booth, sipping coffee and glancing through a magazine. I was perfectly content with spending the whole night there, for I still disliked Valentine's Day. It was a Thursday night which wasn't too bad, for it gave me the excuse of going to bed early in order to go to work the next day.

I was still exhausted from my week of running errands for my very particular editor of a very well-known magazine. It sucked to know that from my English degree from the University of Washington I was only able to get a very stressful personal assistant job for a bitch of a boss. Life sucked.

"Sarah Brown?" a hesitant, yet strong voice broke into my thoughts, almost causing me to spill my coffee all over myself.

"Sorry," the voice said as I saw one slim, yet manly, arm reach out to steady I cup.

I looked up and nearly died of a heart attack as I gazed into the eyes of Stiles Stilinski.

"Stiles?" I asked stupidly, as if really doubting my vision.

"How've you been? It's been what? Six years?" He seemed shy, unsure, hesitant, and completely unlike how I remembered him.

I smiled awkwardly, equally as unsure. "Yeah, I guess."

We looked each other over for awhile; the various murmurs in the background only intensified our uneasiness even more. Stiles made the silence even worse, for he kept rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, obviously antsy. I couldn't take it anymore.

"Wanna sit down?" I had no idea what possessed me, only that my hatred of him years before seemed like a distant memory, not in the mind per se, but more in my heart. For I could clearly remember various instances of out whirlwind acquaintance and I know the feelings I had at the time, but so much had happened since then that I could only treat my former school bully with nothing less than politeness.

"Sure." He hesitated for only a second, finally sitting down across from me.

"So- How you been?" his voice quivered, nerves obviously.

"Good, good. Had a rough week so- just relaxing."

"Oh? Where do you work? If you mind my asking."

I sighed. "I'm a personal assistant…for a well-known editor," I took a sip of my still warm coffee, "Don't want to say anything more."

Stiles smiled. "Sworn to secrecy or something?"

"No, I just don't really want to talk about it. Long day." I tried to play it off as a joke, but I hardly knew if it worked, "And you? What do you do?"

"Defense attorney for a new firm, Morgan and Shoester."

"Wow." Who would've thought? The biggest jerk in school was successful as well as intelligent.

"Yeah," after another few seconds of silence Stiles cleared his throat, and leaned forward, his hands almost touching mine, "You still with Derek?"

My eyes widened. "No, of course not. Uh, we lasted until college. But you know high school relationships don't last," I laughed, hoping to ease the awkward tension between us.

But Stiles didn't join in me laughter. "No, I don't know."

My heart quickened as brown eyes met light brown. They were like magnets, I couldn't look away. I was forced to look inside of him, his hopes and fears all plainly visible, so vulnerable, so unlike how he was in high school.

"Sarah," The minute he took my hands in his own was the moment the magnets turned to electricity. It coursed through my veins, my senses. It was as if he had never touched me before, as if a part of him that was dormant throughout their high school life was suddenly revealing itself to me. I only wished he had shown this to me sooner, "Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?"

I smiled, squeezing his hand.

* * *

_Hi everyone! I just wanted to say thank you for all of the reviews I've gotten. I am very grateful. If anyone who knows of my other works one of which is called The Healer That Fell In Love With The Werewolf, its another Teen Wolf story and Derek Hale has a love interest in Talae Lopez. I wanted to say that the 1 year anniversary for that story is coming up and I am super excited because I will try to post the next chapter on the anniversary which is July 29th. _

_But enough of that. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and don't forget to review!_

_TTDH_


	7. Valentines Day Three Years Later

Valentine's Day- Three Years Later

"What's for dinner?" Stiles called out from the living room.

"Not cooking tonight, feel like shit," I replied from the kitchen, not able to stop myself from stuffing another cookie in my mouth.

As I sat down at the kitchen table, cookie box in hand, I didn't hear footsteps behind me, or the opening of the refrigerator, as I was so consumed with my cookies.

But I did feel the cold slamming of something wet on the side of my head. And as I touched my head I felt something slimy and gooey.

"Stiles – what the hell? You're acting like the jerk you were in school."

Stiles laughed, immediately coming over to me, placing a light kiss on my cheek, "I think someone needs a shower."

"You threw an egg at me," I whined, wanting to cry.

"Come on," Stiles led me into their wide-spaced shower.

As the two of us bathed each other, completely naked, with Stiles washing the egg out of my hair, I have never been more aroused than I was at that moment.

"How do you feel?" he whispered as he nibbled my ear.

"Good, so good."

"You should. You're so beautiful, Sarah. I don't want you ever to feel like you're not."

"What makes you think I feel that way?"

He laughed as he kissed my neck. "You almost ate that entire box of cookies. And you were complaining," He placed a kiss right above the swell of my breast, "and we also haven't made love in three weeks."

"No, it's because I'm so huge," I looked down at my extended stomach.

Stiles kneeled down, the water from the shower hitting the back of his head as he placed a hand over my belly, his wedding band glistening among the trickles of water, "You've never been more beautiful. You two have never been more beautiful."

He rose, kissing me deeply.

"Happy Valentine's Day. I love you."

I smiled. "I love you too."

I finally realized just how much I loved Valentine's Day, and Stiles Stilinski.

* * *

Ahh! Oh my God it's finally finished! Thank you all for the support and the reviews and people who put my story on your favorites list. I really love each and every one of you!

Again a reminder that The Healer That Fell In Love With The Werewolf's birthday is on July 29th and I will be posting chapter 5 then - or I will at least try to... Anywho, I hoped that you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. But you haven't seen the last of me...

Let me know what you think!

TTDH


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